


More than Words

by JazzRaft



Series: Dark at Night [35]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: An interlude in Altissia. They finally find a moment to themselves, coveting the time and affirming old truths in the dark.





	More than Words

**Author's Note:**

> A sizzling new installment for Dark at Night, hot out of the oven for #nyxnoctweek. Dedicated to this wonderful little slice of fandom and all the fiends I've made here.

“We’re in one of the most romantic cities in the world. We’re in a really expensive, snazzy suite that has more than two-inch walls between each room. I’m ninety percent sure there was an aphrodisiac in that caviar. I’m stressing out over making a good impression on the first secretary of Accordo tomorrow. So, _yes_ , shut up, we’re having sex.”

Nyx laughed and Noctis didn’t care because that was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard and he _needed_ it. So badly. Now more than ever. Noctis pounced on him, fit himself into his lap and crushed starving kisses against his mouth. As much as he loved his laugh, he wanted to hear _more_. He wanted to hear anything that could drown out the static of Altissia.

Ever since they’d walked into this stupid, beautiful city, he’d wanted nothing more than to walk right back out. He didn’t think there could be a single place where the Crown felt heavier than it did in Insomnia. But at every single narrow corner, there was someone talking about him and Luna and their impending happiness as newlyweds, as if either of them had decided for themselves that they wanted to be married.

He couldn’t escape the _ignorance_ of people, pretending that this whole event was a sign of peace when his home had just _burned_ on every television across the planet by the same people who orchestrated this wedding. He hated how stupid and _selfish_ people in Altissia were, projecting fantasies onto strangers they’d never met, and expecting those fantasies to be fulfilled in reality, no matter the cost to either _object_ they were put upon. He was sick of this claustrophobic city, suffocating him with its alleys and its gossip alike.

“ _Ow_.”

Noctis jerked back, eyes wide and blood racing. Nyx pressed a thumb to the tiny sliver of blood at the edge of his lip where Noctis bit down too hard in his thoughts. Nyx blinked at the crimson dot it left on his finger before his lips spread into that slow, scoundrel’s smirk that drove Noctis mad for him.

“Really want to get that wild tonight?”

 They hadn’t been able to let loose in _weeks_. The prophecy was the priority. There was no time to pause, no place for privacy. They had one night in Lestallum when the worst remnants of Nyx’s injuries had healed. One night before they couldn’t linger another day in the sweltering city. The hotel room was the last bastion of full, four-walled comforts they could take advantage of before fleeing back to the paper-thin boxes of road-side motels and camping tents. Hard to have an intimate moment with three other single guys crammed inches away from their backs.

He thought he’d lost him forever. Noctis mourned him for days, weeks. He grieved for the loss of his touch on his skin and in his soul. He cried in the middle of the night over remembering his smile, biting his lips until they bled so his friends wouldn’t hear him. He’d been dropped into a deep, dark pit; black tar dragging at his limbs and poisoning his lungs. There were moments where he couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe_ ; where he curled himself so tightly into the car-seat and pretended he was sleeping until his chest stopped screaming. Until they parked the car on the side of the road and he could warp straight into the nearest thing on four legs and take out all his hate and grief and hurt on _something_.

Hate at the Empire for taking away the only thing that ever made him feel like he deserved to be loved.

Grief for knowing that he would only ever get to see the man he loved again in his dreams. In memories made bittersweet against the back-drop of his broken heart.

Hurt that he’d just been healing from. Hurt that Nyx taught him he didn’t have to feel. Hurt that this was _all his fault_. That the one thing – _just this one thing_ – that ever made him feel like he wasn’t the worst royal fuck-up in Lucian history was just… _gone_.

Noctis kissed him again, a touch gentler to soothe the sting of his bite. He pressed an apology to the little break of skin with his tongue, grinning when Nyx nudged back rather than flinched away. All the pain he’d been put through and he never shied away from more. He never asked for delicacy. He never begged for relief. He’d told Noctis about the Lucii and the bargain he’d made, and Noctis had wanted to both scream at and applaud him for it.

He’d missed his strength in those empty nights where he retreated to the furthest corner of the tent shared with his friends. He’d missed the arm firm around his waist, the hot chest warming his mouth, the tickle of his bristled chin against the shell of his ear. He’d missed the soft strokes against his hips before the dawn cracked through the apartment window. He’d missed the softer words smiled into his hair.

He was desperate for him. Had craved every inch of him when he’d wandered down into the Leville’s lobby and saw him leaning there. Charred and blackened and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And he didn’t have the words to say how much he loved him or how grateful he was that the ghost in his brain was made flesh again. So, he just kissed him and held him and touched him where it didn’t hurt and made him real again.

“Easy,” Nyx chuckled as Noctis gave a rough tug to his jacket. “It’s been through a lot.”

Nyx never explained too much about what he went through to survive Insomnia. A greater mystery than his own survival was the endurance of this jacket; the staple of the glaive’s guard uniform, and Noct’s favorite article of clothing from Nyx’s wardrobe. It returned just as singed and stained as the man beneath the sleeves. It was a little warmer when Nyx draped it across his shoulders as he shivered at the edge of camp. A little more heated with the imprints of fire caught in the threads, but it was no less _Nyx._

It was still _theirs_. It was still the 3AM dawns, cold tile numbing his toes, hot coffee warming his fingertips, and a hotter stare burning along his skin bared by a coat that wasn’t made for him, but belonged to him. It was still the freefall before his back hit the mattress. It was still the breathless laughter as Nyx crept between his legs, pushing the ends of the jacket up his thighs, bunching the collar down around his shoulders, and losing his arms with his mind in the sleeves as Nyx ravished him into the morning.

It was hard to control himself with those memories in mind. His hands shook with the effort to keep himself from tearing it off of him. Nyx just smiled at him, all effortless patience and practiced torture as the tip of his tongue teased the red mark on his lip. Noctis pressed his own lips together to suppress moaning at the sight before he remembered where they were. He didn’t need to show restraint here. He never needed to pretend when he was with Nyx.

The jacket pooled onto the sheets and was brushed aside with as much delicacy as Noctis could manage before diving his mouth down to the trail of ink along Nyx’s throat and hastily un-zipping the hunter’s vest they’d re-equipped him with upon his recovery. Nyx chuckled at the rough divesting. The vest was built to repel sabertusk fangs, it would survive the hungry claws of a starving prince.

His hands rushed beneath Nyx’s shirt, fingers melting between deep lines of muscle and hot, hard flesh. Nyx tangled a hand through his hair, keeping Noctis pressed to his neck and taking a deep breath of the prince’s hair. Noctis moaned into his throat as he felt Nyx’s abdomen contract with the breath, muscles rippling beneath his touch. Nyx’s teeth tugged around his earlobe in response, a silent command to finish with the shirt that Noctis hurried to obey.

He balled the black fabric in his fists and tossed it to some distant corner of the room to find later. Nyx’s arms slipped from around him to take off his gloves, mindful of the delicate promise looped around his finger beneath the worn leather. The stormy-blue of his eyes flickered like lightning between raindrops, the symbol of their vow to each other under the indigo night of Duscae like a spark that set off the fire in his touch as he gripped Noct’s hips and jerked them into line against his own.

Noct’s breath caught as Nyx’s teeth latched around the line of his jaw. A long, shuddering sigh escaped past his slacked mouth from the weeks of holding it prisoner from the thin walls and crowded tents. Nyx’s arm tightened around his waist and his fingers hooked into the back of Noct’s jacket collar, dragging it down to help him shrug out of it.

“I miss making you sing, baby,” Nyx growled into his neck, the hum against his skin making Noct’s arms tremble as his elbows fought out of the thin leather.

“I miss hearing you call me that,” Noctis whined, fumbling out of his shirt for Nyx’s deft fingers to dance up his spine, the graze of his nails heated with Noct’s own magic, shared between them.

“Have I neglected to call you that, lately?”

“No, but you haven’t said it to me like this in a while.”

He slipped a hand down the ruin of tanned flesh before him while Nyx guided the bracer off his left, thumb brushing the matching ring of grass around his finger when the slender digits were free. He littered kisses along each one while Noctis teased his chest and ghosted his own kisses along the shaved edges of his hair.

“I’ll be sure to call you that and more tonight,” Nyx promised in a broken rasp, sending shivers down Noct’s scarred back for having the power to reduce his voice to cinders like that.

“Less talking,” Noctis gasped as Nyx nipped the flesh above his promise ring. “More of everything else.”

Noctis reached down and fought with the laces of his boots while surrendering his mouth to Nyx’s tongue. A wanton noise drummed in his throat at the swift, churning taste of him, smoky and tinged with the spices from the Maagho’s delicacies earlier in the night. A twist of limbs and cursing and laughter between distracted kisses, and shoes, pants, and everything else were unceremoniously dropped off the edge of the bed, forgotten between the tight press of hungering bodies.

The sweet, undulating inhale and exhale of skin, washed with moonlight and browned by fire. The fervent clasp of inked fingers in midnight hair and slim wrists bound in ash-dark braids. The warm rumble of magic between Nyx’s palms and Noct’s scar. Noct’s cry was almost plaintive for how deeply he’d mourned for this feeling.

He’d missed the endless evenings in Nyx’s apartment, shuttered away and forgotten by Insomnia. He’d missed moaning into the careful heat of his palms along his scar, kneading into his shoulders and sliding as gently as feathers over the small of his back where the ache always hurt the worst. He’d missed chapped lips on his neck, traveling all of the secret avenues that made his back arch over the arm holding him close. He’d missed the thumbs beneath the knobs of his hips, the scruff against the insides of his thighs, the hands in his hair, and the molten gold of his own pulse as Nyx touched him into treasure.

The only time he felt like a king was like this. When he could breathe in the fire of Nyx’s breath and be tempered by it. When Nyx buffed out the rust and wear and ragged, useless edges with the callouses of his hands and turned him into the gilded glory of a crown he only felt brave enough to wear with Nyx at his side.

Noctis pushed against the broad expanse of Nyx’s shoulders. The glaive tumbled back onto the pillows, grinning up at him and skimming goosebumps across his flesh with the cool curl of his smirk alone. His smile was infectious. In his darkest moments, that little quirk of lips, sinking deep along his cheek, lit up Noct’s night with a thousand silver fireflies. Lanterns of pewter-blue, guiding his hands to cup Nyx’s face and kiss him deep.

Nyx opened him up slow and easy; gentle, practiced movements perfected during those long, deep nights in their sanctuary of bare walls and old blankets. Noctis gripped the sheets beneath his neck, kissing him with endless encouragement, shifting his hips into the touch and moaning deep into Nyx’s throat, arousing him between his thighs.

Noctis leaned up on his arms, meeting Nyx’s wild, hooded stare as he sunk onto him. He threw his head back with a loud sigh, back arching inward as the feeling filled him. A hand cupped his hip, blunt nails dug into the back of his thigh, and Noctis rolled down, matching the raw growl of Nyx’s response with a gasp of his name.

Nyx’s hands swept across his body as Noctis worked over him, rewarding every roll of his hips with tender caresses into all of the places that could make him beg. Burnt and browned and marked hands splayed on his chest, thumbs swiping over nipples with eyes devouring Noct’s reactions – jaw slacked, arms trembling from where they balanced him aloft in the bedsheets – before craning his head up to kiss and lave his tongue over each one.

Noctis lost himself to his touches, letting him coax out the unrepentant aria of his smothered voice. Nyx eased him down to his chest, nudging his hand beneath Noct’s to grasp it against the pillows. Noctis saw the matching loops of grass whispering together through the haze of his lust and his love for him and pushed down harder, clutched that hand tighter, dragged his free hand through Nyx’s braids while Nyx clamped an arm around his back and kissed, and moaned, and begged that they never stopped being like this. That they keep the promise of those rings, no matter how close they were to the edge of a fate that Noctis had never decided for himself.

“Noct,” Nyx gasped between the break of lips. “Beautiful… little king… I love you, gods, always, _I love you_.”

This truth – one of the only things Noctis could believe in – released them both, hands holding tight to steady them through it. Noctis nudged lazy, open-mouthed kisses along the edges of Nyx’s lips as he breathed, chest heaving beneath him as Noctis pulled himself off of him. He volunteered for clean-up, pressing fingertips to Nyx’s collarbone when the glaive shifted to reach for the towel they’d set on the bedside table beforehand.

“You’re always doing so much for me. Let me do some things for you every once in a while?” Noctis said with a lop-sided smile.

He cleaned up quick, passing sloppy kisses over the gentle ministrations. He collapsed next to Nyx beneath the sheets when he was done, drinking in the liquid afterglow.

The golden magic of Altissia’s evening light shimmered into the suite, carrying the city’s soft fanfare and salty breeze through the bay windows. The gossamer curtains brushed idly along the frames, catching starlight in the delicate weave.

It felt like a dream. Ever since he’d left home – hell, maybe even before that – perfect, quiet moments like this, moments where he felt so… _content_ , never seemed to feel real. All his life, he’d thirsted after something like this. Companionable solitude. Being alone, but not by himself. Listening to noisy silence – the lift and fall of breath next to him, the whisper of air through an open window, the music of his own pulse, feeling his heart pump, and knowing that he was alive, at last.

“You sound like you have a lot to say,” Nyx crooned into the coddled quiet of the night.

His arm settled around Noct’s shoulders, squeezing the prince to his side where Noctis nestled like a kitten returning to a well-pawed bed. Every touch, each shift was an instinct cultivated from the incalculable time that he’d been in love with him.

“Yeah,” he replied, catching Nyx’s hand in his again and lacing them together upon the glaive’s chest. He never wanted to stop watching how their fingers matched, how their promise wove itself so delicately and powerfully between them. “I just don’t know how to say it.”

Nyx’s hand plied absent twists throughout Noct’s hair, grazing along sensitive roots that never tired of the loose language of his touch. Or the absence of his words, luring Noct’s own cautious confessions within the safety of Nyx’s submission.

“I don’t know how to put it into words,” Noctis murmured, curling deeper into the warm body around him, hugging his legs around Nyx’s underneath the sheets. “I never have. There are no words that could define how I feel about you. ‘I love you’ has always felt too simple, too small in comparison to how much you make me feel. You give me a reason to get up, even when everything feels too heavy to get out from under. You’ve taught me things that I was too terrified to learn and made me braver for each one. You saw me, the real me, hiding from everyone else. And you loved _me_. Just me. I don’t know how to tell you how much I love you for loving me when even I didn’t know how to.”

Nyx crowded him closer, looping his arm a little tighter around his shoulders and pushing an urgent kiss deep into his hair. Noctis squeezed his hand until his fingers ached, nuzzling along his collarbone and all the spidery scars latticed across his chest.

“You know, it goes both ways,” Nyx whispered to him, resting his face in his hair. “Until there was you, I didn’t know what I was fighting for. I stopped believing that I could ever have a future of my own. That it would be better to die a hero than to live alone. And then, there was you. I don’t want to say you saved my life, but…”

He choked out a laugh, a rare moment of vulnerability that Noctis hugged him even closer for.

It had been so, _so_ dark at night before Nyx walked into it. He shared in his shadows and made him less afraid of them. He didn’t banish them, only accepted them, and taught Noctis that the night was not something he had to fear. It was a part of him that he had spent loathing for years. And then there was this man, roughened and worn by so much death and still smirking like the fires which had burned him were his own to control. Noctis saw what he had always wanted to be in Nyx. A king of his own demons. And Nyx taught him how to be that king better than a thousand years of history in his blood ever could.

“I’m okay with ‘I love you,’” Nyx told him, crooking a finger beneath his chin to lift his face to his. “I’m okay with no words at all. I don’t need them to define how much you mean to me. All I need is you, little king.”

Noctis smiled and kissed him, as simple as no words could be.


End file.
